


Put Your Hand in Mine

by FanFreak611



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Angst, Character Analysis, Drabble, Dreams, Episode: s05e14 The Polarizing Express, F/M, Fluff, I analyze Juliet through Shawn ig, Mentions of PTSD, Post-Episode: s05e14 The Polarizing Express, Short, idk how I feel about this one lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28632597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFreak611/pseuds/FanFreak611
Summary: Shawn's dream in The Polarizing Express gives him a lot to think about but all he can focus on is one very important person in his life.
Relationships: Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	Put Your Hand in Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first fic of 2021! I got this idea after talking to some cool folks on the psych discord and thinking yet again about the strangeness that is The Polarizing Express

He knows it's a dream. He’s been very aware of his dream-like state from the moment he woke up in a snow-covered office being yelled at by Tony Cox. And yes his dream has its usual very vivid, almost real-like state that is brought on by his eidetic memory but it still has its usual brand of randomness that he’s so used to. His shirtless, big-bellied, father or dancing, sitcom Gus or even dictator, german-like Carlton are all clear products of his crazy mind at work. He’s thankful because he knows there are lessons to be learned here but it's just so easy to be distracted by the silliness of it all and not have to focus on the vulnerability that comes from his actions.

Even Juliet falls into his normal brand of dreams with her beautiful blonde hair and cop uniform entertaining every Farrah Fawcett or beat cop Juliet fantasy he has ever had. And sure his deep-rooted insecurities and worries shine through occasionally like when he learns she’s dating Dwyane Wade or when the car flips and suddenly she’s very much in danger of being killed on the job but it's so easy to be distracted by how hot she looks that he barely focuses on any of that. (However, he’ll always be haunted by the way her fingers reach through the grill separating them as if she’s searching for him, for a comfort he’s not sure that he can provide.) 

But then she gets out of the car and crouches behind a dumpster, her hand shaking as she holds her gun, her other hand coming to stop its tremor and suddenly all of his fantasies have disappeared and he’s staring into the very familiar face of the woman he cares about so deeply. (And may even love though he’s nowhere _near_ ready enough to even think about that.) 

He knows her so well, her eyes wide, bright blue shining with fear, her familiar pantsuits, the slope of her nose and curve of her cheeks, her hair done up in a professional style that still is so _her_. He’s had plenty of time to study her since the day they met and even more so over the past few months because they’re finally together and he’d be a fool to not study her face as she’s lying peacefully next to him at night. He knows her little quirks like how her fingers twitch towards her gun when she gets nervous- seeking out the familiar repetition that comes from old training exercises- or how her nose wrinkles up when she particularly doesn’t like something or even the soft smile she gets right before she kisses him- which always makes him melt. 

But when her hands shake, body trembling as she stares at him with wide eyes he forgets how to breathe because he’s also all too familiar with this part of her. The part of her that shook all those years ago after pulling her gun for the first time, remaining composed as she took down her first perp despite the betrayal of her hands. The part that shook years later as she stepped back into the field, pushing beyond her fears, beyond that night in order to save him. The part that still shakes every time single time she wakes up from a bad dream or talks about the horrors that came with being a Miami beat cop or her time on that clock tower. 

It cuts right through him, deep into his core because he knows there’s nothing he can do, he can’t protect her or pull her into his arms. It’s just a dream, a glimpse of what life could have been had he not come to Santa Barbara, sprinkled with little hints of reality and it’s over just as quickly as it had begun. He’s thrust back into reality, into trying to fix what he got wrong all while the memory of his dream itches in the back of his head.

But later, when the case is wrapped up, justice served, apologies given and he had decorated one heck of a tree with his girlfriend, he lies in bed comforted by her presence pressed up against his chest. She’s so peaceful when she sleeps, blonde curls cascading across her t-shirt clad shoulders, one arm wrapped around his, cementing his hold around her middle. (She’s wearing his shirt and he can’t help but smile every _single_ time he remembers that fact.) 

He runs through his dream for the hundredth time, not usually one for overanalyzing his own thoughts but there’s something about her part in his dream that- well- shakes him. So he lies there, idly rubbing circles around her hand as he remembers her beautiful golden hair, eyes narrowed as fire danced in them, so strong and determined despite the way her hands shook, and then it hits him. He’d do anything for her- to protect her.

It’s a fierce need rooted in something he doesn’t even want to begin to think about and yet he knows it to be true all the same. He wants the best for her, wants her to feel safe and protected from the horrors of her reality. And while he knows that he’s not capable of doing that all the time, he vows right then and there to always try, to always do his best to comfort her, to pull her into his arms after a hard day or when the memories become too much because she means too much to him for him to ever let her suffer alone.

And when she intertwines her fingers with his subconsciously, he can’t help but smile to himself. He loves her hands, even when they shake and he’ll do anything to help them shake less.


End file.
